


Incomplete

by Watermelonsmellinfellon



Series: How the Two Halves of a Former Archangel Became One [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Amnesiac Aziraphale, Angst, Aziraphale Was Raphael (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Were Both Raphael (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Crowley remembers everything they were and Aziraphale remembers nothing, Feels, M/M, Pining Crowley (Good Omens), Soulmates, The Beginning, brief visit from Freddie Mercury, part of a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-18 21:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19343332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watermelonsmellinfellon/pseuds/Watermelonsmellinfellon
Summary: "Alternately, the angel who was his other half, maintained their name to an extent. He was now called AziRaphael according to the Almighty."Where Crowley AND Aziraphale were Raphael at one point, and everyone BUT Crowley has forgotten Raphael's existence.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Building off the Crowley and Aziraphale were Raphael combined at one point…](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/492667) by helly-watermelonsmellinfellon. 



> -Basing this on a Tumblr post I made a few hours ago that branches off on the Crowley/Aziraphale being Raphael at one point.
> 
> -Didn't think I'd write anything for this pair, but this hit me and I got feels.

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

He remembered. Probably not the greatest thing in all honesty, considering what he'd had to suffer through. Privately, he thought it would have been better for him to entirely forget his time in heaven and the existence, however brief, he'd had there.

Being split in half was honestly the most painful thing one could ever be forced to endure. Archangel's were, as one would expect, otherworldly. They had a multitude of eyes and wings and such glorious power and presence that the other angels simply could not look upon them for too long if in their truest forms.

And he'd been split apart into two beings, with him doing a dive of concerning distance into agony and suffering, and the other piece of his former self being demoted, as it were.

The other did not get away unscathed either. As they'd been split apart, they each took a part of their former self with them.

Crawly, as he'd dubbed himself now thanks to his serpentine form, retained the red hair of his prior form, and the sharp angles in the facial features. But he looked more humanoid than before, and his wings had turned black from the blood he'd shed upon being rent in two.

Alternately, the angel who was his other half, maintained their name to an extent. He was now called Azi **Raphael**  according to the Almighty. He got to keep their bluer than blue eyes, though only a single pair. And he had the softness of form and the unexplainable Grace about him they'd once had together.

But instead of remaining an Archangel, Aziraphael had been demoted to the status of Principality of all things. All because when Crawly had thoughts that seemed to challenge the Almighty, even when they were thought purely out of curiosity and not even a desire to rebel, the other part of him had been perfectly against daring to mention such thoughts aloud and scolded him for being so indecisive.

The internal war such had bred had  _felt_  like it'd taken forever. It was barely the length of time it took to create a small galaxy in truth.

In his opinion, the worst part of the entire experience was that Aziraphael, now the guardian of Eden's Eastern Gate, didn't even remember Crawly or the fact that they had been something Greater together. His memory had been stripped of Raphael's existence entirely and none of the other angels remembered their former self either.

The Almighty had wiped the slate entirely clean so to speak.

And the only reason Crawly knew this was because he'd gotten the guardians of the Northern, Southern, and Western Gates of Eden to speak, and before they realised a demon was hissing in their ears, they'd revealed enough. Raphael was an unknown to them. They remembered Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, and Uriel, but not Raphael.

Slithering up beside Aziraphael in his new form and seeing the look of wary uncertainty the other aimed his way, had been painful enough. Even if his eyes couldn't look humanoid no matter how hard he tried, and his wings were now blacker than the darkest night, he still retained a good portion of the shell that was Raphael. And Aziraphael didn't even recognise him.

Just when things seemed lost, Aziraphael met him equally if a bit stiffly in conversation, his kindness - something left over from when he was a part of Raphael - wouldn't allow him to be anything but decent to another being. Even someone he believed to be an enemy.

And then that one revelation happened. The one thing Crawly knew would keep him coming back to Aziraphael over and over again for however long they were on Earth.

Aziraphael gave away his own sanctioned, Holy Sword of Fire, meant for him to smite his enemies with, to the two humans who were now aware of their Free Will and possessed the Knowledge of Good & Evil. The two walking across the hot sands in search of a new home while expecting their very first child to be born outside the safety of Eden.

He'd gone against a fairly simple directive, simply out of the kindness of his being. And then lied to the Almighty about it.

It was that little action, and the guilty wail of self-justification Aziraphael gave afterward, that helped Crawly realise it wasn't  _all_  gone. Sure his other half had forgotten him, but he could just make sure than from that moment forward, he'd never forget him again.

They were halves of a whole. Even if they could no longer be whole in the ethereal sense, Crawly would help him realise that one day, they could be complete again. The same way humans were upon joining together in Union.

The Almighty may have split them apart by personal order as punishment, but Crawly would have to be damned to an eternity of loneliness in the darkest pit of Hell, before he'd let that be the last Word.

* * *

**A/N: Finished!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**


	2. The Flood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawly pines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I've decided to take up the advice to follow them throughout history. Because I love a pining Crowley!

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

Finding his angel was never a difficulty. Even if Aziraphael couldn't feel their connection, it was still there. Though Crawly couldn't pinpoint exactly where Aziraphael was at any given moment, he could locate the general area and then just search for Aziraphael's inner light.

The angel wasn't very good at blending in with humanity just yet. His tendency to wear a white robe compared to all the humans donning multi-coloured fabrics, made him stand out all the more. Crawly had a feeling it was because he tended to glow with Grace whenever the sun touched him and he secretly liked it.

It was in 3004 B.C. that they had their next meaningful interaction. All others for the past thousand years had been more like meet and greets. Or rather Hi and Byes. Crawly of course wanted to linger, but to get his other half to trust him he couldn't be  _too_  clingy. While the angel's wariness was a bit of a heart-breaker, Crawly was as tenacious as he could be within the realm of reason.

Aziraphael had never tried to smite him for one thing. Both were perfectly capable of fighting and wielding ' **magic** ' as the humans called it. They very well could be like all the other angels and demons that come into contact with one another. But Crawly wasn't so inclined to harm his better half or anyone for that matter, and Aziraphael was too kind to enjoy a fight. He might snap something rude now and then, but then his guilt would overpower him and he'd apologise immediately afterward.

Literally, he was Crawly's better half.

Seeing the angel's personal glow again had been a relief of sorts. Of course Crawly was a bit disappointed over the wings having to be hidden. Mortals didn't like the immediate and obvious reminders of otherworldly beings existing among them. It made them all twitchy and worried for their own continued existence as if they were honestly  _that_  important.

The amount of people that fled upon seeing Crawly's eyes alone, was ridiculous. As if these humans hadn't been laying with demons ** _(yes, that was a thing that was happening)_**  and having odd children as a result. A pair of snake eyes set in a humanoid face couldn't be the worst some of them had truly seen before.

Anyway, it was in 3004 B.C. that he finally got to have a true conversation with his angel once more. Aziraphael was stood at a fence that sectioned off a good percentage of the local humans from whatever work was being done about half a league off. As in, there was a great bloody boat sitting on a hill, and animals of all sorts were unnaturally congregating in groups of two only, heading for that boat.

Stood at the forefront of the group was Aziraphael, hands wringing in worry like usual. And so Crawly, feeling lighter and lighter in spirit the closer he got to his other half, sauntered on over to strike up a conversation that would hopefully be worth something.

"Hello, Aziraphael!"

Said angel jumped a bit, a fetching flush coming to the apples of his cheeks as he gave the demon a hesitant smile of acknowledgement. "Crawly."

He'd said it so softly too. Crawly's desire to embrace him was stronger than usual. Typically he loathed physical contact with anyone, but it wasn't so odd that he'd long for his other half, right? And if his eyes hungrily roved over the angel's face, taking in every detail anew, there was nothing wrong with that.

He asked what the boat was for. It was the only reason he'd even come near Mesopotamia. Before feeling Aziraphael's presence of course. Word had spread far and wide about a massive boat being built and he'd wanted answers! And lucky for him, his angel had them!

' _God's a bit tetchy_ ' had to be the greatest thing to ever come out of Aziraphael's mouth thus far. As if the Almighty was naught but a child throwing a tantrum. And was it blasphemous if Crawly thought to himself that such a distinction wasn't afar off from the truth?

' _Wiping out the human race_ ' was far less great. To the point of Crawly disagreeing wholeheartedly with such a plan. Not  _all_  of them were fornicating with demons. Not  _all_  of them worshiped false gods. It sounded unfair to him to punish the whole for the actions of a few.

And he could tell that Aziraphael agreed even if he would never say it aloud for fear of Falling like Crawly had. His angel was kindness and goodness personified and his very being had to be crying about the Almighty's plan for the mortals.

Healing had always been a specialty of his, he'd learned. Something Aziraphael mirrored exactly as his other half. Even though Crawly was a demon, it didn't mean he agreed with Hell's inhabitants. It didn't mean he was on Lucifer's side in general. Lucy wanted to be God instead of the Almighty, Raphael had merely questioned not giving humans the right to determine their own destinies. As Raphael had been among the lot questioning things, even if only half of him held such thoughts, he'd been split apart and cast out.

Lucy was a drama queen. Crawly hated him. Crawly hated the other Fallen. Crawly liked taunting mortals and pranking them, but for the most part, doing pure evil wasn't his thing. There was no satisfaction to be gained from it for  _him_. Sure he took credit for certain acts that transpired, but he hadn't been involved in them in the least. Simply put, if Hell thought he was working, they'd leave him to his own business without complaint, and that was good enough for him.

And truly, going against the Almighty's plan to save only Noah - whoever that bloke was - and his entire family, would be something Hell would appreciate? Crawly secreting several hundred children of all ages into a  _miraculously_  expanded section of the Great Big Boat of Exclusion up there could be spun as defying the Almighty even if it was saving lives.

It  _was_  defiance in a sense.

And Crawly couldn't be any more taken with his other half, than when Aziraphael found the group in the bowels of the ark, and merely gave a tentative smile, miracled up some blankets and bread for the children, and returned to his post at the top of the boat without a word on the subject.

 _His_  angel was different than the sanctimonious lot up above. As one half of Raphael he should have expected no less.

* * *

**A/N: Finished!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS!


	3. To Babble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the language of the world is split up but a certain angel and demon can still understand one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Pining Crowley is giving me life!
> 
> -I've finished up to Ch. 6!

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

"Oh my. Even I can tell that this is a rather terrible idea."

Not too long after the Flood, in which two hundred and seventeen humans mysteriously lived instead of a measly dozen or so, the world, or at least parts of it, had been rebuilt.

Now when he said ' ** _not too long_** ' he meant in terms of  _his_  lifetime instead of the mortal ones. A few hundred years was so little time spent in the grand scheme of it all.

So here he was, just a few centuries later, and there the mortals were, doing something foolish without Crawly's interference whatsoever. Some things were fun to get in on because he wanted to see their reactions. This… was not something he wanted part in because he knew it would only end up going terribly in the not-so-fun kind of terrible way.

Aziraphael was stood in a grand garden almost as beautiful as Eden had been, appreciating the architecture and the view it afforded him. Crawly had decided to join him because he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be close to his other half, and he liked speaking with Aziraphael, even when he spouted his pious teachings no doubt foisted upon him by some other angel that no doubt had a stick lodged up their corporeal rear end.

"So this  _wasn't_  your doing?" his angel asked once they were side by side. He looked a lot more at ease now, either because he was getting used to Crawly's presence, or because Crawly had nothing to do with the newest stupidity the mortals were getting up to. Either way, he was smiling at Crawly and it made the demon's body feel warm and his chest feel short of breath.

"No. But I  _am_  curious to see what'll happen now. We both know the Almighty isn't the most merciful despite what the other angels want mortals to believe."

Aziraphael did not take the bait offered, which was probably for the better. He didn't _want_ to argue with his other half, but seeing him flustered and a bit annoyed was always amusing. Crawly just liked to watch him, longing for the time in which they were One.

"You know," said Crawly, looking around at the various flora surrounding them, "bit of a misleading name if you ask me. Nothing in this garden seems to be hanging."

"I- I suppose you're right," conceded Aziraphael with a thoughtful nod. And wasn't that touching? He always gave Crawly's words proper consideration before answering. "Though Babylon is known for more than its gardens."

"Too right. Like the great, bloody tower they're trying to build into Heaven. You can see it from everywhere, even as far as the mountains." There were rumours going around that each block was a furlong alone. Crawly had to wonder where they found the materials to make the blocks and then stack them to build a tower in the first place. Seemed like it'd be rather heavy.

Aziraphael had taken to worrying his bottom lip in concern as they watched the construction of the tower continue well into the evening. As immortal beings, it was all too easy for them to forget time and just stay still forever on accident. Just being near Aziraphael made the entire thing worth it even if they didn't speak all that much.

Seven sunrises passed with them just standing in place and watching. It was on the seventh day, in which something strange occurred. A bright, white light, blinding and too Great for even the angel and demon to look upon directly, appeared at the very top of the tower. And a voice, familiar and yet unfamiliar, spake unto the mortals that they should go and spread themselves among the Earth.

The Almighty was gone in seconds, leaving Crawly and Aziraphael to stare enraptured as the tower began to descend into the dirt, losing height and forcing the humans to flee lest they be swallowed up with it. Concurrently, the very top had begun to crumble, sending rocks tumbling down every side in warning. The gleaming, white stones were ruined as a result and all that hard work destroyed in minutes.

"Okay, so maybe that  _was_  a bit more merciful than I had expected," Crawly stated. Credit should be given where it was due after all. God hadn't killed them all, so that was something.

"Should we- do you think we should go down and see what all the fuss is about?" asked Aziraphael, gesturing to the large hordes of people gathering in individual groups, gesticulating madly at one another.

Crawly sighed, having preferred to stay with his angel alone. "Alright, let's go." The smile his angel sent him in response was payment enough for his eventual suffering of additional company.

It was upon reaching the nearest group that they realised the full extent of the Almighty's actions. The group was obviously arguing, but when the angel and demon approached, they both understood instantly that they could not make out the words being screamed between the men and women before them.

Another group not afar off was also arguing, but the words from their mouths had a different and more grating sound to them.

On and on they went, finding people after people, speaking in different tongues. What was once a world unified under a single language, they'd now become divided in one of the worst ways in Crawly's opinion. Especially as he noticed children no longer capable of understanding their parents. Such a divide wasn't fair. Once again, not  _all_  of the mortals had wanted to build a tower to Heaven to try and be equal to the Almighty.

The nervous babbling surrounding them was almost too much to bear.

Did Aziraphael and Crawly escape this because they weren't mortal? Or because they were simply two halves of the same being in the same place? He'd prefer to go with the former idea, because the latter would mean the Almighty had known they were there and that would mean Someone knew that Heaven and Hell's field agents weren't exactly doing as they'd been ordered to do if they saw one of the other side's workers.

Such a thing made him uneasy, so he put it from his mind entirely. If he ignored it then it didn't happen. Willful ignorance could be a blessing sometimes.

"I suppose they would  _always_  have had to spread to the far ends of the Earth somehow," said Aziraphael with a twitchy shrug as he tried explaining away, probably for his own sake, the Almighty's decision. If only to give himself some peace of mind. "So much for them to explore out there. More resources available I'm sure. Very few have actually made the journey before. I wonder if _their_ language changed as well."

"Makes you wonder why these ones never bothered to go exploring," Crawly stated.

"Perhaps this was simply part of God's Plan. Waiting for the right moment."

He sighed. That rubbish again? He had to be patient with his angel. It wasn't Aziraphael's fault that he'd been created to follow God's orders only and not think for himself. Crawly would help him and watch over him anyway, no matter how long it would take.

"If you say the word  **ineffable** , I'm leaving."

The angel glared then, making Crawly's stomach drop uncomfortably. "In-eff-a-ble."

Whilst minutely offended over Aziraphael trying to get rid of him, the sass of it was simply too attractive to ignore.

He smirked at his better half and tipped his head. "Fare thee well, angel. May we meet again soon."

And then he was gone.

It took weeks before the warmth he'd soaked up from Aziraphael's presence, fully disappeared. He missed those days of bliss more than anything.

* * *

**A/N: Finished!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^


	4. Black Powder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a new weapon of sorts is discovered and Crawly soothes his angel's worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I felt like this would be something they'd discuss, so I threw it in here.
> 
> -Crawly is secretly a romantic.
> 
> -Also, because my name it Helen, I had to throw the well-known, age old tale of another Helen in here but make it realish in a sense. XD

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

It was some time around 1000 B.C. that Crawly found himself in China. Specifically, because he'd been passing by and felt Aziraphael's presence nearby. And by nearby, he meant broadly since the land was so vast and it took ages to traverse to even find him. Still, the beacon had called to him and he came because he was desperate to lay eyes on his other half. To feel his presence so near. To bask in the warmth his being gave off.

It had been two centuries since they'd last seen one another. And that had been back in Greece when things had taken a bit of a turn for the… barbaric. The whole mess with beautiful women and horse statues hiding secrets was surely something over the top and not necessary in the least. Sometimes mortals turned the most innocuous situations into outright blood baths.

In his opinion, Helen hadn't been anything so fair as to wage wars over her appearance. Mortals feeling the need to fight over other mortals, as if they owned the right to those mortals, was baffling. Neither Crawly or Hell had any part in that. He might have taken credit for it of course because he wanted to be left to his own devices, but he actually had no hand in that whole drama. He'd simply sat back, marveling at how shallow humans could be at times.

He didn't even want to get into the strange belief in their gods woven into the tale that most believed to be true despite no one being alive afterward to verify these assumptions.

Anyway, the point was, it had been a while since he and Aziraphael had been in contact and any chance to see him was one that Crawly would take. Even if they both looked so terribly out of place among the Chinese. A thousand or so years of adapting to their new habitat and they'd changed physically. Then again, everyone had after Babylon.

Crawly believed that the Almighty had done more than just change their languages. In the beginning, all the humans looked like they were related to an extent, leaving Crawly and Aziraphael to stand out among them as the most pale humanoids in existence. And then Babel happened, and the people dispersed throughout the globe, and things started changing even more. Such as the fact that the lands had broken up due to a massive, worldwide earthquake, and now great bodies of water separated whole nations of people making travel far more difficult.

In China, he and his angel did not fit in no matter how hard they attempted to adhere to the common traditions and cultivated culture.

His angel was at least clothed a bit more commonly. He had the habit of standing out no matter where he went, but at least now he wasn't in pure white garb. It was more light peach in colour. At least the outer layer. Those beneath were whiter but less visible. The Chinese wore many layers so the theme was being followed to an extent.

"Hello, angel," he said softly, unable to help himself. His fondness for his other half eclipsed everything else on his mind at the moment.

That telltale flush worked its way onto the angel's face as he regarded Crawly. "What has brought you here, Crawly?"

"Simply heard a little angel was out and about and thought you'd like some company from a person who can actually understand you."

He meant that in many ways. Not just the language although that was indeed a big one. More as in they were both immortal and had been on Earth far longer than anyone else alive. Who else could understand what they experienced but each other?

"So what's been going on here that you've decided to linger long enough to be found?" asked Crawly, wondering what was so interesting about the men in the distance, messing with rocks and minerals, that his angel was so enraptured by them. Seemed terribly boring in his opinion.

Aziraphael sighed. "They've- well they've. Argh! Blast is all! They've developed a new kind of weapon!"

"With  _rocks_?" And not the rumoured catapults the Greeks were whispering about?

The doubt in his tone earned him a sour look from his angel. "Remember Goliath? I wouldn't put such doubt into the power of the earth if handled properly. Though what I mean is far more dangerous than  _that_."

The angel glanced around, before stepping closer, breaching Crawly's personal space for the first time since they'd been split apart. Crawly felt a bit light-headed from his angel's power bathing him in its never-ending warmth.  _This_  was what he'd been craving.

"It seems by mixing finely ground sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter, you can make something combustible, and it has great force once ignited. They're going to be testing it any minute now. It's loud. And dangerous. I take it by your confusion, you weren't involved?"

If it was making his angel so concerned, Crawly should probably be concerned as well. He also replied in negative to the question tacked on at the end of Aziraphael's explanation. "I personally had no part in it. Not so sure about Hell in general of course." He wouldn't put it past any of those bastards. Giving the mortals a new weapon to destroy each other with. Hell would love it.

As if on cue, a loud  **BOOM** broke the relative peace around them, and Crawly's ears were left ringing terribly in the wake of it. And out in the field, a large hole remained where the test had taken place seconds prior.

"I can see why you're concerned." That wasn't good.

The angel nodded, lips pursed. "I've been trying so hard to interfere with their progress because even I can foresee the blood that will be shed because of this. But no matter what I did, nothing could stop it. I managed to put it off for a decade, and somehow they came right back to it even with all their notes and personal observations gone!"

"Don't be upset with yourself, angel. If there was indeed demonic intervention at play, possibly more than one demon to be specific, then you did your best. I don't see any  _other_  angels down here doing anything to help the humans. You're all they've got."

And wasn't that a disappointing fact. What was wrong with the nitwits up above that they couldn't even muster up a shred of concern or care for the Almighty's Creation? Angels were supposed to be beings of love and acceptance but in Crawly's experience, it felt as it only Aziraphael filled that description. The rest were a bunch of uptight arseholes. He'd used the word sanctimonious to describe them many times in the past.

The soft look on Aziraphael's face was definitely worth him getting all sappy. His angel was so easy to please. In contrast, it was very difficult to make Crawly happy in any capacity. It must be another side effect of them being split in half at the Beginning.

"Thank you, Crawly."

_Any time, angel._

* * *

**A/N: Finished!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^


	5. A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley acquired a few things for Aziraphael whilst in Egypt. It took until 41 A.D. Greece to hand them over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I was hit with this and decided it happened.
> 
> -Started Ch. 11! Only a few more to go!

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

Eight years after the death of Christ, was 41 Anno Domini. The last few centuries had been rather boring for him personally. He hadn't seen Aziraphael since the crucifixion. The angel had up and disappeared before Crowley - Crawly hadn't really been doing it for him as the newer ages came into being - could tell him about the surprise he'd saved for him.

Before that evening on Golgotha, they hadn't seen one another for over three hundred years. It was around eighty-something years prior that Crowley had found himself drawn to a massive wave of despair in Egypt. He'd been passing by, as he usually was, but this time it wasn't an angel accidentally beckoning him.

This time it had been sorrow and hopelessness of the mortals. And what should be causing such despair in such a culturally advanced city? The greatest library in the world was burning down because Julius Caesar was an arsehole.

Personally, Crowley wasn't much into reading and scrolls and such. Typically because the idea of fiction was a relatively new thing and reading someone's personal journal or the account of a long battle, were in no way interesting to the demon. Why would he want to read about war?

Now, while he wasn't very fond of these things, Aziraphael was. In an effort that took more effort than he'd ever admit aloud, he'd tried to put out the fire. He could do miracles for Heav- for Hell- for something's sake! He  _should_  be able to put out a fire and repair all the lost works inside.

He couldn't.

It wasn't normal fire. While not his own work, a demon definitely had a hand in this. A normal fire bore no magic or power of its own and could be snuffed out easily enough. This fire though, had been too otherworldly and too much for Crowley to fight without the miracle showing a very significant change in Hell. And that would cause questions that he'd be too weak to answer after expending all of his body's life energy to contain the fire.

It would discorporate him if he tried.

What he  _could_  do was… save a few souvenirs for his angel. What Aziraphael did with them was up to him of course.

So for nearly ninety years, he'd been keeping a small storage of scrolls in a miracled bag, just waiting for when he could gift them to his other half and watch his face when he realised what they were.

That opportunity had come thankfully, with the feeling of Aziraphael calling to him from somewhere the moment he'd entered Rome for a quick temptation he'd been ordered to see through. He'd found his angel in a tavern. Or rather, Aziraphael, the awkward turtle that he was, had found Crowley about to dip into something hopefully strong and powerful enough to knock him on his arse for a while.

"Angel, I've got something for you. Come with me."

All plans to get fantastically drunk were put on hold, though he did regret it a bit since the mortals truly outdid themselves with the invention of wine. The gift was the most important thing though! He didn't know how long he'd remember to keep those blasted scrolls in perfect condition! For someone who didn't care about reading, it was a struggle.

The angel obviously was concerned with the idea of following a demon home, and a bit hesitant over their interactions still, but eventually huffed, adjusted his toga(more white cloth that made him glow in the sunlight), and followed him out.

"Meant to do this eight years ago but you kind of vanished before I could."

Where he was staying wasn't home. Not even a home. Not another person's home either. Sort of like an inn where he had indefinite luxury to remain until he wanted to move on. The wonders of miracles that let him fashion gold coins out of thin air whenever he wanted. Such a benefit to his way of life.

Having his angel in his personal space was enough to make Crowley tingle. Four thousand years later and he still hadn't grown accustomed to the near-buzzing feeling he experienced whenever he got anywhere near his other half. It was pleasant and soothing. Even when Aziraphael wasn't completely comfortable in his presence just yet.

The bag in which he'd been keeping the rescued knowledge was easily located and then unceremoniously dumped all over Crowley's luxurious bedding for his angel's personal perusal.

"You don't like reading," Aziraphael noted.

"But  _you_  do."

It took less time than he'd expected, for Aziraphael to ask him where they were from. His tone hadn't been even. He appeared a bit emotional over it actually.

"Was in Egypt a century ago. Found out Julius Caesar got some demonic assistance in burning down that poor library. Couldn't stop it or save what was already destroyed, but I got some of what was left before it all burned to the ground," he explained casually. "Figured you'd find a use for it or something."

Aziraphael stared down at the large pile of scrolls currently containing knowledge of various civilizations in various languages. Most he probably didn't speak either, but Crowley was sure it was the thought that counted above all else.

"Do with them whatever you please, angel." If he kept them for himself to learn their secrets, so be it. If he decided to gift them back to the original peoples' they'd come from before being stolen by ol' Alex, then so be it. So long as Aziraphael was happy, that was all that mattered in the end.

His angel aimed glistening, blue eyes Crowley's way, and smiled brightly. And as if on cue, the sunbeams coming in through the massive, open windows, illuminated him entirely. He looked like the common depiction of an angel, glowing from within naturally, and using the natural light of the sun to amplify that effect. Aziraphael could pull it off so stunningly.

Crowley was struck speechless for a moment because it was in that moment where his other half appeared most… beautiful. And while Aziraphael had  _always_  been beautiful as it was impossible for angels not to be, the demon could easily note that this realisation of his other half's beauty was very different than any other time he'd noted it.

"That was very sweet of you, Crowley."

"Oh yes, why don't you tell the whole bloody world, angel."

The smile did in no way lessen, and Crowley basked in it for as long as possible. The urge to touch Aziraphael was stronger than it had ever been before. He wanted to feel the angel's hair and see his wings once again. Wanted to just sit and listen to him talk about whatever had been going on recently.

Crowley was a demon and he  _craved_  many things.

* * *

**A/N: Finished!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^


	6. The Year With No Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a volcano erupts and plunges Eurasia into a year long winter, and neither Aziraphael or Crowley could do much to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Title not to be confused with the 1816 "Year Without a Summer". This was just inspired by that.

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

536 A.D. was one of the worst years in all of history and Crowley was not exaggerating a single bit when he made that point. Not even a mite. While looking back on it, it wasn't the absolute _worst_ time in history - that had yet to come, unfortunately - but for Eurasia is was absolute shite in so many ways. Unlike anything they'd really experienced before.

A bloody volcano erupted and forced the entire joint continent into frigid temperatures unlike any ever experienced outside the North or South Poles. Ash blocked out the sun for months and covered _everything_ , the air was stifling and impossible to breathe in, and the crops would not grow all year 'round.

And Crowley had survived it. For the most part. He'd made it nearly an entire year through it all too.

But then…

As Healing had always been a talent of his, and he disliked children dying, he'd been faced with the heart-breaking, self-imposed duty of stealthily curing as many sick children as he could and then hiding it from Hell with a grand temptation of some clergyman on the side.

He'd lost count of just how many children ended up under his palm at some point. And his miracles had begun to wear thin. While Aziraphael was out trying to fix the crops issue, Crowley had been out and about using his power to help the children, the very future of the world. And he'd wrung himself dry of energy. He hadn't been able to summon enough energy to move. Eventually, he discorporated by freezing to death in an ash-covered field.

The first time for him. Aziraphael had been discorporated three times already and had nothing good to say about the experience. He'd finally learned of why. It was a lonely thing. Terrifying in a way. Falling had been the worst thing he'd ever experienced until he'd felt the chill coming upon him and taking him over bit by bit. Starting at the fingers and toes and moving inward. As a serpent, the cold was never something he fancied.

Crowley had made it almost to the end, he later found out. Almost there. Sure, saving thousands of lives in his own way was a success at least in his own mind, but he'd failed to make it through himself and therefore that left Aziraphael as the only immortal being on Earth who could help anyone which put more strain on him as well.

It was late 537 A.D. that he finally got a new body so he could go back to pretending to tempt mortals to darker paths.

He didn't consider his usual work to be temptation because the results were usually hilarious! To him at least. They were more like pranks. He didn't want to blow things up and burn things down and kill people. Earth was much better than Heaven or Hell combined and a great way to avoid the worst things in their existence. And his angel loved Earth so much. Why would he want to destroy something so important to the both of them?

September of 537 A.D. had him meeting up with Aziraphael once again, on an abnormally frigid farm. His angel looking the most unhappy he'd ever been since they'd both come to Earth. Aziraphael loved food. It was probably his greatest weakness. But even  _he_  wouldn't hoard a precious resource that he didn't even need, from those who were starving and suffering.

And Crowley had no doubt at all, that his other half was absolutely heartbroken over not being able to help more.

There wasn't even the little flinch of surprise when he saw Crowley stood beside him. He simply continued to stare out at the dead lands, now covered in an early snowfall once more, and frowned to himself over whatever was ailing him.

"You can't save everyone, angel," he said, deciding to be blunt.

Aziraphael's bottom lip quivered in response.

"May I once again remind you that you are the only angel down here doing anything to help these mortals on a constant basis. You are one being. You are not the Almighty. You did more than expected of you by even your own colleagues. None of this was your fault."

It wasn't even Hell's fault. There had simply been an earthquake or something that caused the volcano to erupt. The kind of control necessary to cause a volcanic eruption would require dozens of demons that would be discorporated upon finishing because their power would be gone. And then they'd float around aimlessly in hell for a few years as their natural energy restored itself. It was too much work in the long run for either side to do.

Aziraphael's shoulders shook. Crowley had to remind himself that while they had once been the same person, they were two halves of a whole. Each getting different parts for themselves. Crowley was a bit caustic and sarcastic, and definitely a pessimist. He took tragedy with a kind of stony resignation by now and tried not to linger too much on his emotions.

His angel wasn't like that. Aziraphael wore his heart on his sleeve. He was upbeat, honest, and optimistic. And to have something completely trample upon those facets of his personality, had to be weighing him down so much.

Crowley had never initiated contact with Aziraphael before. He'd wanted to many a time, for many reasons. Some not very pure is truth be told. He'd refrained out of respect for Aziraphael's personal space.

But this wasn't the same situation as all the other times he'd seen his other half sad. This had been a truly tragic event that had tested Aziraphael to his limits and left him feeling cold and empty in more ways than one.

With only minor hesitation, he wrapped an arm around the angel, and pulled him in. And the saddest part was that Aziraphael came willingly. It was sad because it took some tragic event for them both to get to this point that Crowley had been longing for for several millennia!

There were no tears or hitched breaths, but there didn't need to be. The pure sorrow pouring off of his other half made Crowley feel equally sad.

"I should like to leave mainland Europe, my dear."

That was new! Aziraphael had never called him such before. Crowley didn't even care if he referred to everyone as such, he would take this change with him everywhere he went. He'd dream about it whenever he decided he wanted to sleep.

"Where would you like to go, angel?"

"England seems to be doing well enough. There is a kingdom I've heard some interesting things about. I had planned to seeing it for myself, but I got sidetracked here."

"The Kingdom of Wessex?" Crowley asked, remembering hearing about it as well.

Aziraphael pulled back to give him a nod. "I'm tired of being a saint or a priest for now. Maybe I'll take up baking next. Something not related to droning men who think they're wise as they watch others suffer in the name of God."

That had to be the most blasphemous thing he'd ever heard his angel say. And it was beautiful.

"I suppose I'll come too. It's been a while since I've never been near the land now known as England. I'm curious to see what has changed by now and who this Arthur bloke is. Seems a bit too happy for my liking. Could use some... minor misfortune."

And to England they went.

And ended up on opposite sides of Arthur's plans and actions. For a little while at least. The man died less than a year later and both angel and demon moved on from England to less depressing places.

It had been… a bit of a change in their relationship. In which Aziraphael smiled upon seeing him and no longer looked like a skittish lamb, and Crowley felt even more at peace than before.

* * *

**A/N: Finished!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^


	7. The 14th Century

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out why Crowley hates the 14th century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Sadness.

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

The 14th Century took the spot as the absolute  _worst_  time in history, for a variety of reasons that he hated remembering! Nothing else could ever come close to topping what a mess it was. Not even those concerning moments in the 1940s, in Crowley's opinion.

The fashion was atrocious and made him embarrassed to have to think about how he'd had to play along for the sake of blending in _(the tinted spectacles drew enough attention on their own anyway)_. The English finally got their hands on gunpowder and were very excited to use it for literally everything they could fathom it being used for, making Aziraphael's worries a reality. More famines spread across the mainland, killing off thousands of people and crops and setting the bulk of humanity back as they struggled to survive the cut to their resources. The Bubonic fucking Plague happened because mortals apparently forgot what cleanliness was.

And that last one was not a work of Hell. Or Heaven. It was just basically because disease was too easy to spread around because people were throwing their shite in the streets for anyone to trudge through, not bathing for some fear that doing so would make them catch illnesses _(he needed someone to explain the logic in that belief because he wasn't seeing it)_ , and fear-mongering using superstitions to force people to avoid certain actions that would actually stop the spreading of the plague! That part might actually be a bit of demonic work actually, though he'd had no proof.

All of that, coupled with the vermin getting in and out of people's homes so easily and no doubt touching all the feces laying about and getting infected, and then infecting everything else they touched like food and clothing, made it worse.

Of course it took until a later time for scientists to properly determine the causes and find solutions to make certain such things never happened again. At the time however, no one could really explain why the so-called punishment was even happening, and at best there were just plausible assumptions.

Crowley had been of the very few who thought hygiene played a major part in the event and patted himself on the back even in the present day. He'd kept himself immaculate in nearly all meanings of the word. Sin was practically in his nature, he couldn't really avoid doing sin but being pristine and orderly? He practically pioneered such lifestyles.

If these events weren't bad enough, the despair they caused was worse than the tribulations of 536 A.D. had caused. Sure he was a demon and was supposed to be spreading unhappiness and vexing his angel's side day in and day out. That didn't mean he  _liked_  being unhappy, or dealing with others who were unhappy. Why be sad when he could imbibe wine and get pissed enough to knock himself out for weeks? Sleep. Another great thing that humans could do.

There was one thing people seemed unanimously agree on at the very least. Extreme heat was difficult for anything to survive in. And nothing mortal could live through fire. Certain places, that could afford lowering their population in such extreme ways, would trap the infected in their own homes and burn the entire house down, stopping the sickness from spreading and essentially purifying it.

The estimated death toll centuries later, didn't even touch how many had  _actually_  died during the plague business. So many lives that hadn't been officially accounted for in any capacity, had been lost as well in those few years at the height of it.

Deep holes were filled with bodies upon bodies as there had been no space to give each person their own, proper burial. Shoving the posies in their clothing to mask the stench of sickness and death and decay didn't help either. It lingered in the air for years and could turn the stomach from anywhere because the graves were _everywhere_ even when people forgot exactly where!

More than ⅓ of Europe's population died in the 14th Century.

And the absolute worst part on Crowley's end, was that he couldn't just miracle it away. Neither could Aziraphael. Their miracles weren't capable of being done on a grand scale without risk of discoporation and years without power or form as new forms were made for them and paperwork explaining _why_ they had been discorporated had to be filled out. And hearing the complaints from their respective head offices would be a pain in the arse of course.

Sure, Crowley could miracle an ill child well again, but they would still go back out into the world that was full of sickness at every turn. The streets. The crops. The vermin. There was no way to escape it unless said children were shoved onto a perfectly clean boat and sent some place where there was no plague at all.

And he couldn't section off a building and make that clean alone for them because he couldn't control everything coming in and out. The air, the vermin sneaking in, the ill people forcing their way in as well in search of sanctuary. Anything could get in or out and there were too many places full of suffering children that he wouldn't be able to micromanage so much at once. He could clean one thing and a day later it would be all for naught.

Aziraphael, who had returned to a more holy line of work in this time in Italy, had not taken it well in the least. He disapproved of the illness. He disapproved of the ways the various nations chose to handle it. Those in Milan were fond of the burnings in which he was forced to watch and tut over every other minute.

Nothing could lighten his mood. Not even wine. Not even food. His angel loved eating and indulging in gluttony far more often than an angel should. And yet he'd refused to even miracle himself something to nibble because he felt guilty over being able to do it for himself, while being incapable of making a big enough difference in the lives of those who were suffering.

How many times would Crowley have to reiterate that Aziraphael was only one angel and it was only his job to gently  _guide_  humans, not solve all their worldly problems? It wasn't as if the other Principalities were doing anything useful. It wasn't as if Gabriel had come down off his high horse to help out. That twat probably didn't even care about what was going on.

The angels, for the most part, being of love and all that rot, loved from a distance in a detached sort of way. _ **Oh yes, God Almighty made it so I love it by extension for that reason alone, but not enough to do anything when they're suffering! That's not a part of my job description! No one said I had to go down there and do anything about it.**_

It was that the angels tended to lack common decency, as Crowley's angel would call it. And though Aziraphael would never call them out on it because he was too skittish to and might think it too rude, it was obviously he thought so as well.

As for the demon's side, Hell was thrilled and had sent Crowley a commendation for Outstanding Job Performance among other things. They were so out of touch with reality and what life was really like on Earth that they didn't even know that there was nothing in Crowley's power, that could allow him to create a plague and then sick it on people. He was good but not that good.

"They'll endure, angel. They always do," he'd said during one of the few chances he'd gotten to visit his other half during the whole mess.

Said angel's lip quivered with emotion. "I just wish some of them didn't have to."

Didn't they all.

* * *

**A/N: Another is done!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^


	8. The Downside to Being Peckish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least he got to watch Aziraphael eat afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -In which Crowley might have become aware of a kink or two.

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

He'd never been particularly fond of France. Had only been there a couple of times before to perform a few small temptations to keep Hell off his bloody back and out of his damn business. And yet, just in passing through, he'd felt his angel's presence hit him out of nowhere!

It wasn't really out of nowhere, he'd just been too drunk to properly register the familiar warmth as being something  _outside_  of the effects of the alcohol. Wine. Damn good invention that was. Truly spectacular. Deserved a standing ovation even. His greatest vice, it was! Pure weakness. If ever there way a day he didn't drink wine, then it wasn't truly him!

Anyway, once he was sober enough to notice Aziraphael's presence, he'd forced himself to get sober so he could find his angel faster. And where should the demon locate his other half? Chained up in the bloody Bastille, dressed like a wealthy member of the English aristocracy! The absolute  _worst_  way to appear in Paris considering what was going on at the time!

Even Crowley, who absolutely hated the current fashion and it did nothing for his hair or arse or hair for that matter, had miracled himself to fit in with the culture. So long as he didn't speak, as conversational French wasn't something he was skilled enough in faking convincingly yet, he fit in just fine. If one excluded his eye-wear which he'd been using for nearly 1,800 years and wouldn't give up ever.

And why should his angel be in danger of getting his head chopped off by way of guillotine like so many others were that day? Because he'd been hungry. For crepes of all things. So many wonders the French could offer, like very fine wines for example, and Aziraphael wanted some bloody crepes! And Brioche. And where could he only get the best of the best French food? Bloody buggering France! He'd popped on over to France for food!

In the last few centuries they'd struck up an Agreement of sorts. Flip a coin if both had to go in the same direction because of a small job they'd been set to do. Aziraphael always ended up choosing Heads, leaving Crowley to take Tails. And in the end, whichever faced upward once the coin landed, would determine which person would go that way alone to do the Blessing  _and_  the Tempting. This was to save time and energy. And effort. And also made it seem less like Crowley was following his other half around all the time.

His angel hadn't even been in France risking discoporation for a job. That part would have been understandable as those above and below could be utter twats about deadlines. No, he just wanted something to nibble.

And he could have saved himself at any time!  _'Frivolous miracles'_  his arse! Saving himself and Heaven from putting in the extra work to create another body to inhabit would surely have been acceptable! It took time and effort to do such things and no one really wanted to sit there making humanoid bodies for immortal beings to inhabit.

Crowley was weak to his better half's pouting though, and did the miracle for him instead. Aziraphael had that adorable thing about him that made Crowley want to keep him happy. And his blush was quite fetching too, spreading all the way to his ears. Even though the red clashed with his pale hair, it was lovely.

It was perhaps in this moment, that Crowley realised just how stone-cold his angel could be. Crowley didn't automatically accept his invitation for lunch so he swapped outfits with his captor and then let the man's guards haul him from the prison to get his head chopped off in Aziraphael's place. And the angel didn't even blink as he claimed such an action shouldn't be counted as a miracle, using that sly little tone of voice of his in the process.

The Holy being. The good one. The one who was on the side of goodness and greatness and niceness and that those sappy words that made Crowley's skin crawl.  _He_  had been the one to be so callous as to not care that a man was about to die in his place. Sure, he wasn't a very nice man and had done some pretty terrible things, but how many times had he heard the  _'must be a good person deep down, surely'_  spiel from his angel? How many times did Aziraphael want to give some mortal the benefit of the doubt despite how horrible they were?

Crowley was a cross between impressed, worried, and perhaps a bit enamoured?

Could he even be enamoured by his other half? They'd once been the same person after all.

One thing that truly bothered him though… was how Aziraphael, as usual, was the only angel to ever be on Earth full-time. He did all the miracles despite the fact that there were other Principalities with similar duties. Why was Aziraphael always the one doing the work? Why did the Almighty allow only him to be doing all the work? Where was the fairness to it?

How could he get scolded for performing _'too many frivolous miracles'_  when most of what he did was to help his charges? Humanity was quite literally his charge. He was guiding them and doing his job as a Principality!

Gabriel was still an arsehole nearly six thousand years later it seemed. It wasn't as if he was out there doing anything to help the humans. The archangel could fuck off good and proper as far as Crowley was concerned.

Thankfully, his angel was very good at distracting him over lunch. The crepes had indeed been delicious though he'd only had a few, preferring to watch as Aziraphael took to them like… like something taking to another thing. Whatever.

The point was that he found himself very much enjoying watching his better half enjoy food. Crowley's vices were thus far wine and sleep. And his ego. So his greatest sins would be Pride, Sloth, and Gluttony probably to the end of time. Aziraphael was Gluttony all the way. He made food, which hadn't ever been too terribly interesting for Crowley, look like something worth the effort.

The sounds and facial expressions that came from the angel simply added to the ambiance of it all.

Aziraphael took to food the way most mortals took to Lust and erotica!  _That_  was such a comparison he had been searching for moments ago!

His angel made food out to be more interesting than sex. Crowley, as a being who had tried both a few times just to get a feel for them and know what he was dealing with when tempting mortals with Lust, could honestly say sex was more fun in his opinion even if he typically wasn't interested in doing the work for either for the most part. Sleep required no physical exertion and was the best out of everything. Even sex.

But Aziraphael's moaning might just change his mind.

Maybe.

* * *

**A/N: Another is done!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^


	9. The Curious Naming of Asmodeus Fell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bookshop is open for business!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Based on a scene in the script that we didn't get on-screen because they would've had to cut out other scenes between Crowley and Aziraphale.

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

Aziraphael finally got his precious bookshop opened in 1800. And after a small,  _almost_  unworthy of remembering hiccough where he'd almost been reassigned back to Heaven in which Crowley's last minute thinking stopped that, things were sure to be nothing but smooth from then on. he could feel it in his bones.

Though… "So the shop is  **Mr. A Fell Purveyor of Books to the Gentry, Established 1800**. So what the bloody hell does A Fell stand for, angel?"

The angel, who had been about to take a sip of his wine, sighed. His answer came in a bit of a mumble against his glass. "Asmodeus Fell in case anyone was asking."

Of all the… " _Really_?"

His angel flushed, no doubt remembering the last time such a name came up between them. It had been at the crucifixion of Christ, where Crowley had informed him of the new change in his name. Crawly became Crowley. Crowley simply felt better on the tongue and sounded less ridiculous. Anyway, Aziraphael had guessed Asmodeus as Crowley's new name at the time and the demon had to withhold a cackle because no way would he  _ever_  choose such a pompous thing! That drew too much of the wrong attention.

"Not a very holy name there, angel. Very demonic in fact. Even if he wasn't a real demon and just one of those the mortals made up, that's quite a shock coming from you."

Another blush as he poured them some more wine to go with the box of chocolates Crowley had bought him as a gift for his shop's opening. "Yes, well, I figured it would be best to distance myself from any kind of angelic leanings. I'd like to think I blend in better these days, my dear."

That was true. Better than a century ago at least. Though the irony of him choosing 'Fell' as his surname was almost painful. If only he knew the truth behind Falling and what it truly meant.

Perhaps Crowley should change his name up again. Or at least add to it to make it more human so he could better fit in. Humans have two names at the least in this day and age.

"Besides, Aziraphael, especially in its proper spelling, kept making clergymen want to ordain me as a saint or a priest. Humans in the past have instinctively noted I was different just by name alone. And by how I glow in the sunlight, which I've managed to tame for the most part these days. I'm trying my best to be less conspicuous."

"Well it's working."

At least better than before. He still glowed a bit in the sun when his attention was elsewhere, but as London wasn't the brightest of places, he doubted people would notice all that much.

"You really purchased chocolates just because my shop is opening," said his angel in a soft tone, looking down at the large box that carried three tiers of the best chocolate Crowley could get his hands on. Aziraphael loved anything edible after all and as it was supposed to be a gift, it should be the best of the best. Only the best for his angel.

In truth, Crowley just wanted to watch him eat them and make noises. Seeing his angel enjoying himself was the best thing. Right up there with sleeping.

"And to think it was almost all ruined by bloody Gabriel, wanting to replace you with that wanker, Michael."

"Crowley!" chastised his angel none too fiercely. He was trying to hide a grin behind his glass of wine after all.

"Interesting how they changed their minds so suddenly," Aziraphael murmured, sending Crowley a very telling look.

He cleared his throat and looked away. "Indeed, angel. Though I suppose even that idiot Gabriel can tell how important you are to the Earth." Idiot indeed. He was so out of touch with Earth happenings or how non-archangels interacted, that he couldn't understand hyperbole and verbal inflection. And that wasn't quite the pathetic thing indeed.

Nothing Crowley had said while pretending to be an evil version of himself, plus some random, evil demon from Hell, sounded even remotely convincing. But Gabriel fell for it like an idiot. Some things truly never changed, did they? He fell for the weakest act Crowley had ever put on. And Crowley still wasn't sure if he should be proud of that or not since it took next to no effort.

"Thank you, my dear."

Oh, that was going to be the end of him. Aziraphael's recent choice to use that term of endearment this millennia was great and  _not_  so great. Wonderful when aimed at Crowley, terrible if aimed at anyone else. Aziraphael was  _his_  angel, his other half. Not someone else's 'dear' or 'darling'.

"I already have some books to put on my shelves!" said the angel, gesturing to a single bookcase that bore a few dozen books of varying shapes and sizes. "You might not recognise them of course, since they're different now, but those are my own handwritten, recreations of those scrolls you nicked from the Library of Alexandria for me. Once I copied them down completely, I returned the originals to their own lands. And every century since I've updated them to better form. Hardcover books are a blessing. I would know, I had a hand in inspiring them and then hastening their production along."

Aziraphael was beaming at Crowley in that way he usually did when the demon did something he thought to be marvelous. At present it was a mixture of both of their actions, leaving the angel to feel rather clever with his own thinking no doubt.

Crowley was still stuck on the fact that his angel had carefully copied everything on all those scrolls and then kept the copies all this time. He hadn't given it much thought once they were out of his hands, and yet he was touched anyway. That meant Aziraphael treasured what was inside those books enough to cramp his own hands in writing it all out over and over.

"Have a chocolate, dear. It goes so well with the wine. Brilliant choice I'll say!"

Reluctantly, and only to appease his other half, Crowley accepted the chocolate, taking note of how quickly it melted between his fingers. And to think this was one of Aziraphael's weaknesses.

He gave it a try and determined that it was very bitter! He liked eating  _those_? Truly?

"Angel-"

"I just  _love_  chocolate. I could drink it. I wish it was a drink."

"It is."

Blue eyes snapped his way with deep intensity now that a topic of interest had been brought up. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, it's- it's been a thing for a few centuries across the pond. Not very popular here yet and expensive as hell to acquire."

His angel sighed. "I'm going to have to get my hands on some of that. Would be heart-breaking if I don't."

And suddenly, Crowley knew what his next gift to his angel was going to be. If only to see him smile so brilliantly again. And of course he'd have to be there for the very first taste because Aziraphael savoured his food and Crowley liked watching him do it.

* * *

**A/N: Another is done!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^


	10. A Bant in the Bentley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the church scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Because this is what I imagine and therefore it was written!

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

"So you really chose Anthony for all official, human paperwork?"

Crowley sighed as he righted the steering wheel of his Bentley while pulling away from the burning church. "Yes, angel. I liked how it sounded so I decided to go with it."

"Not a very demonic name, my dear," the angel continued. Crowley could practically feel his grin of amusement, but refused to look because he didn't feel like it. "'Worthy of praise' seems like a bit much even for you. Is there perhaps a solid reason for this unique choice of yours?"

He sighed, knowing he wouldn't be getting anywhere unless he told the angel the truth. "You chose a name with demonic history, so I chose one with heavenly history to separate me from the idea of being a demon in any way. Besides, I happened to like Saint Anthony of Padua. Was a good kid who did his best for the people. When he spoke it didn't feel disingenuous like many priests and saints do. Reminded me a lot of you actually."

Always wanting to help the sick and the destitute. Speaking what he believed with such surety that others couldn't help but be taken in by his zeal. Kindness even to those not kind in return. "That's how I tend to judge people. If they remind me of you then I know they're genuine and decent. If they feel like Gabriel then I know they're nothing but an arse kisser who wants to look good in the eyes of everyone around them." Gabriel was the biggest fake among the angels and Crowley would stand by that belief until his dying day.

The soft sound that came from his angel made him flush in one of those rare moments of self-consciousness. Thankfully, the angel decided not to address it. Crowley probably wouldn't have been able to handle it if he did.

"Would you like to come inside for some drinks when we arrive?" he asked casually despite the offer being anything but casual. "I have it on good authority that the bookshop will withstand this unfortunate incident and that the airhorns will be almost imperceptible."

"I like the sound of that."

It would also help them both ignore the fact that they wouldn't be able to do much in the long run. Rumours were going around that this particular bombing would last quite a while, so even if they both managed to save a building full of people one day, it might get blown up the next. All that energy would be wasted and they might even discorporate.

Aziraphael's greatest fear in regards to the gunpowder had been realised, Crowley had noted as of late. It had to be eating him up inside over it. Probably viewed it as a personal failure knowing him.

It was a good thing Crowley remembered to save the books. They were rare and would have broken Aziraphael even more than the bombings. While his angel had a big heart and cared for the suffering - as one of Raphael was wont to do - his attention tended to get caught on what was immediately in front of him more often than not. And the books were material. Physical. Right there for him to make contact with.

And he'd done a lot of work to acquire them as well.

Thankfully, Crowley had come with a few more things than just himself and a car. And wasn't he so fortunate that the Bentley was such a smooth ride? It could now be considered one of his most treasured items. The invention of the automobile was honestly genius. The ease of travel was most appreciated. He hated horses. Could never stay on them and they made his arse hurt.

"If you look in the backseat, I brought something for you to try. You weren't in Britain when it became somewhat popular here. It fell out of fashion though. I was in New York recently and it's much easier to acquire over there than here."

A large, tin canister was retrieved from the backseat. It was a bright red and had a metallic sheen in the passing lights that Crowley's somewhat manic driving had them passing in and out of while bombs went off in the background.

"Cocoa? Add warm milk?"

"They call it Hot Chocolate over there, angel. Drinkable chocolate to be precise."

There was the sound of intense inhalation through the nostrils and Crowley looked over to see Aziraphael biting his lip in a very… tantalising fashion. His attraction to his other half was a bit concerning the more he considered how everything his angel did was so attractive. Was it considered narcissism to be so enamoured by the being who had  _shared_  the being of Raphael with him once upon a time?

And why did care about being narcissistic? He was a demon!

"Is it good?" Aziraphael asked after he managed to compose himself once more.

"Never tried it. Not big on food meself. You'll have to let me know."

"We can try it together," the angel decided firmly. "And you can always add something to it. Humans have started this fascinating tradition of adding liquor to everything they drink to give a bit more… pizzazz."

" _Pizzazz_?!" The bloody hell was that?

"Yes!" the angel confirmed, not catching the slight hint of derision in Crowley's tone. "Most of the time it can add to a drink's worth. And also make you forget what is considered a sensible amount to imbibe."

Essentially, if the hot cocoa ended up being bad, he could add something to it to at least make the drink worth it in the end. He liked his angel's thinking.

They sat in silence as the shop kept getting closer and closer and Crowley dodged the fallen rubble or merely miracled it out of the way.

"Crowley, is Hell behind this war at all?" the angel eventually asked, cutting through the thick silence like a blade.

If there was one thing the mortals did well, it was war. Sure demons had a hand in making certain that gunpowder was created and then spread throughout the world, they tended to let the wars handle themselves because they got bad naturally on their own. Humans were always waging war for some reason or another. It was one of the biggest faults of their race.

"No, angel."

Aziraphael sighed, which Crowley mirrored perfectly. It would have been much easier to simply blame a few demons for the truly evil things that happened in the word, instead of wanting to admit that humans truly had their own faults. Sometimes enough faults to make him wonder if Armageddon was such a terrible idea. Destroying the world full of corruption of the not-fun kind.

But then he'd feel bad because once again, as he'd reiterated in the past, not all humans were bad. Not all of them were walking hazards. Not all of them deserved to be punished for the actions of a few. All beings had the capacity for good and evil in them. Even angels and demons. Crowley being a demon and not being evil, meaning other demons could possibly follow his example. And Aziraphael and the angels being very much capable of the Seven Deadly Sins and some, like Gabriel, taking a few of those to an evil level in Crowley's opinion.

Nature and Nurture and all that rubbish. Crowley and Aziraphael had simply been nurtured by nearly 6,000 years on Earth, away from the origin of their Natures.

When they arrived, Aziraphael waved him inside, casting a dark look at the sky and the planes flying overhead.

He wasn't ignorant to the fact that no matter what happened, the bookshop and Bentley made it out perfectly intact.

* * *

**A/N: Another is done!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^


	11. Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crowley does much thinking after getting his requested Holy Water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -This fic has been finished since Ch. 3 and I keep wanting to post many chapters a day but have to control myself to only 1 a day.

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

_'You go too fast for me, Crowley.'_

Him? Anthony J. Crowley? The demon that had waited six thousand years for his better half to finally be comfortable enough around him to admit to enjoying his company and not wringing his hands nervously over what trouble he'd get into if anyone above found out that they interacted? The demon who always let his angel decide how long he wanted Crowley to stick around?

_He_  was the one going too fast?

While Aziraphael could have meant how fast Crowley liked to drive, because he had a need for speed and the angel absolutely hated every minute of it, that had only been one meaning to his words. And it was a minuscule at most. His angel had meant something more important with his words. So it was either he thought Crowely was trying to urge him to do things he wasn't ready for, or he picked up on Crowley's urge to further their relationship. Or both.

For a being longingly watching another being he used to share a form and existence with, to be so bloody patient for six millennia, meant he deserved a fucking medal! There was nothing fast about Anthony J. Crowley! He was practically patience personified.

But he couldn't be clingy otherwise Aziraphael would get spooked away and that would be worse than anything else. Crowley already knew that he didn't take his other half ignoring him very well. He slept for almost eighty years just to avoid the blaring fact that Aziraphael had stomped away from him and proceeded to do his best to ignore Crowley entirely.

Being unconscious for almost a century was better than being actively ignored by the only person he gave a damn about, he'd determined. It made it seem like it was  _Crowley's_  choice to stay away and that soothed his battered ego when he'd made the decision to sleep.

Unwillingly, his eyes traveled to the hideous thermos his angel had brought him that night. Of course it was all bright and positive-looking. The kind of thing you'd find in a housewife's kitchen, holding hot cocoa or some such nonsense. It was a very Aziraphael thing to purchase and no doubt there was an entire set to go with it somewhere in that cluttered mess of a bookshop. Tartan was a horrible thing and Aziraphael loved it too much.

He'd been reluctant to hand the thermos over too, if Crowley remembered correctly. Worrying over it possibly destroying Crowley and telling him not to unscrew the cap. After one hundred and five years of tension over the subject, he'd still ended up doing it despite disliking it the entire time. Had even made certain it was _'the holiest'_  too.

Aziraphael had called it a _'suicide pill'_  back in the 1800s. Had been righteously furious over the request and had looked offended over Crowley even daring to ask it of him.

_'I want insurance for if it all goes pear-shaped.'_

That had been what Crowley had told him. That was the reason he needed the Holy Water in the first place. His angel's reaction was to refuse giving him a suicide pill because Holy Water wouldn't just destroy his body but his being completely. Meaning a permanent death. No more Anthony J. Crowley.

Oh…

Aziraphael thought that,  _'if it all goes pear-shaped'_  then Crowley would prefer to take Holy Water then deal with whatever punishment Hell would cook up for him. And when he considered that idea, he didn't find much fault in it other than the fact that he'd be leaving his other half behind to face Go- Sa-  _Someone_  knows what.

Still, that wasn't what he'd meant. But from Aziraphael's end, it no doubt sounded like premeditated suicide. It sounded like a plan to abandon Aziraphael to the consequences of their actions.

Suddenly, his angst over the whole thing lightened considerably, because this meant that Aziraphael was as fond of Crowley as the demon was of him. Why else would he caution Crowley about Holy Water destroying him entirely if he touched it, more than once? Why else would he be so offended his bottom lip would do that little quiver thing it did when he was overcome with emotion he couldn't properly express?

The situation went from okay to good. And to think, if both had just been a little better at communicating, this whole miscommunication wouldn't have happened at all and Crowley wouldn't have had to suffer under the assumption that Aziraphael had started to dislike, and Sat- Go-  _Someone_  forbid, hate. Almost eighty years in which he could have been basking in his angel's presence. Sleep was great and everything, but Aziraphael was just better.

Eighty bloody years where if he'd been around more often, Aziraphael wouldn't have been buggered by Oscar bloody Wilde. Yes, he was a bit bitter over that, but it was only because he didn't like Wilde as a bloke. Crowley had no issue when Aziraphael was intimate with Michelangelo, nor did he mind the artistic inspiration gained from such a relationship. But Wilde… something rubbed Crowley the wrong way about him.

Of course it could just be that while his angel got Michelangelo, Crowley got da Vinci and the works inspired from that brief moment in history. But still!

He needed alcohol and how fortunate for him to find a pub coming right up! They were all over Soho.

Cheap liquor was the way to go. And if he miracled himself a free spot at the bar, everyone who would notice could shut the hell up about it.

It was somewhere around his ninth drink of... something alcoholic, that a young man sat beside him, an easy smile on his face. "Girls troubles, mate?"

Crowley snorted, having never had those kinds of problems before and knew that he never would. "No."

"Ah." He sounded as if he understood though Crowley couldn't see how. "Boy troubles then. What did he do?"

Okay so maybe he did understand, even if in technical terms they weren't men and just had the bodies of them in an effort to better blend in. And… considering certain attitudes and popular thinking, the idea of this strange man he'd walked up to being a bit bent as the insufferable twats would say, wasn't revolting to him? Then good on him.

"He said I got too fast for him!" He still wasn't over that and if some random bloke wanted to listen to him rant about his woes, then Crowley would do just that. "It's been such a long time and this old-fashioned idiot is still skittish. And yet I just seem to care all the more because he's adorable. And a bastard. An adorable bastard."

" _Do_  you go too fast?" the young man asked with interest, a pint already going warm in his hands as he fiddled with it instead of drinking.

"No! And he said that right after saying we could go to the Ritz some day! And I said I'd take him anywhere he wanted to go!"

Somehow, the hours had passed and Crowley had ranted himself hoarse, sang 'You Are My Sunshine' off key while thinking of Aziraphael, and ended up learning some interesting info about his new… companion while he was at it.

In university for art, from India, astonishing charm, most likely queer as well, and an aspiring singer. Also very patient and... decent. Crowley hated four-letter words.

"What's your name?" the young man had asked him as they moved to part ways outside the bar.

"Anthony J. Crowley. You?" Whom shall he remember without fail, for the next decade?

"Farrokh. Teachers and classmates can't pronounce it so they call me Freddie for short."

"Well, Farrokh," said Crowley without any pronunciation struggles, "thanks for listening to my problems and poor singing."

"Darling, I have a feeling you'll be hearing  _my_  problems and singing within the next ten years and all I can say is that I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed our conversation."

And a decade later, Crowley heard the song Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy for the first time, sung by a familiar young man named Freddie Mercury. And he decided without a doubt that Queen was his favourite band of all time and they'd go down in history if he had anything to say about it.

* * *

**A/N: Another is done!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^


	12. A Moment Before the End of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adam asks a question mid-Apocalypse and the answers Crowley has shock everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I just like writing Gabriel chocking in shock I suppose.
> 
> -Threw in a headcanon I like.
> 
> -Crowley has been pining for 6,000 years!

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

"You both want to end the world just to see whose gang is best?"

Leave it all to a child, the Antichrist to be specific, to say what Crowley had been thinking! After all the trouble he and Aziraphael had gone through in the last decade while worrying about the world coming to an end, it turned out the child they'd been influencing  _wasn't_  the Antichrist and that the real one was getting a proper rearing elsewhere.

Enough to make him a decent child. Made Crowley feel a bit bad for considering doing away with him to save the world. The kid didn't seem so inclined to destroy anything and just looked perpetually confused.

And watching Gabriel lose his cool over everything not going as he'd always longed for, was beautiful! War mongers weren't an attractive lot after all.

Great Plan! Great Plan! Why did everyone care so much about the Great Plan? Why did everyone want to follow what was supposed written down? Strange how the demons were even perfectly on board despite the 50% chance of their failure. Weren't they supposed to be going  _against_  God's wishes?

"But is that the Ineffable Plan?" asked Aziraphael, twitchy and worried as he was but still trying to postpone what felt like the inevitable.

And of course his other half would be the brilliant one! Crowley never thought he'd enjoy hearing the word ' _ineffable_ ' but for once he was proven gloriously wrong! His genius angel had a point!

No one truly knew the Almighty's plans, that's what made them Ineffable! The Great Plan was written for the most part, not in full detail but still there. But the Ineffable Plan… that was the issue! How could anyone proclaim they knew what God was thinking and planning when God was always tight-lipped about everything going on?

"God does not play games with the universe," said Gabriel, making both Crowley and Aziraphael frown.

Crowley of course was brave enough to take it a step further. "Where have you been?" Six thousand and twenty-four years of their joined existence and he hadn't taken note of that at all?

And Adam, the Antichrist who wasn't much of an Antichrist, hummed and said, "One thing is still confusing me in all of this."

Beelzebub and Gabriel, both having turned away to mutter between themselves, turned to look at him expectantly, though disappointedly as he wasn't doing as they wanted.

Without waiting, the boy turned to face the angel and demon behind him and asked, "Why are you two broken?"

"I beg your pardon!" Aziraphael blustered, looking offended. In fact, Crowley was  _feeling_  offended and it wasn't even on his own behalf! There was nothing wrong with his angel! Aziraphael was perfect.

Adam nodded. "It's like someone took a piece of paper and tore it in half. You'd fit back together though not perfectly. You're a little too different after being apart for so long. Your edges don't align that well anymore."

Crowley's entire being went cold with realisation. The boy could sense or see that they were two halves of a whole? That they'd once been the lone Archangel Raphael? No one had ever noticed until now and he wasn't sure on how to handle it. How to answer such a question when he'd never truly considered having to explain himself before?

" _Oh_ ," the boy hummed with a nod, staring at Crowley with understanding. "You were once an Archangel but got ripped apart! Sounds painful."

Gabriel made a choking sound and Beelzebub buzzed at a frequency almost too loud to bear. And Aziraphael… he had turned to look at Crowley with something that looked like awe crossing his features. "We were once the same being?" he asked, incredulous.

Since it was all he could do, Crowley nodded. Now he was just tired. "All Archangels are like two in one. Two personalities more like. Take Gabby over there," he said, gesturing to the still sputtering idiot, "you might have noticed that at some moments he's fun-loving and amusing and in others he's a selfish arsehole. And for the longest time I thought I was the arsehole half and you were the fun-loving one because I ended up Falling, but after six thousand years of friendship and mild pining I can determine that  _you_  are a selfish bastard and  _I_  am the fun-loving idiot."

The tarmac was silent as everyone processed his words. Crowley didn't care much what anyone else was thinking though. He only had eyes for Aziraphael. He wanted to know his angel's thoughts after learning a secret that had been kept from him for so long.

"Why don't I remember?" the angel eventually asked.

Crowley's mouth pinched shut. "I was punished to be the only one to remember. I asked the other Principalities of Eden and they'd never heard of the Archangel Raphael. You even got to keep the name and no one noticed. So I figured the Almighty was punishing me even further just for asking a question."

And he was brought back to the idea of fairness and how he viewed many decisions of the Almighty's to be unfair.

"What was your question?" Book Girl asked from where she was stood with her maybe-boyfriend.

"I merely questioned not giving humans the right to determine their own destinies," he explained with a shrug. "The idea of humans had been fascinating. I simply wondered why they'd be forced to do God's bidding like the angels. It seemed unfair. It felt like they wouldn't have a choice because at the time it felt like  _I_  didn't have much of a choice."

He'd been bored to tears up in Heaven. It was so dull there. As one being with Aziraphael, he'd decided to just deal with it because he enjoyed the warmth and security of being Raphael enough to not voice his displeasure. But he'd gone and voiced a different concern instead and look what happened.

"But you  _did_  have a choice," Aziraphael pointed out. "You chose who you associated with and chose when to speak your mind. And humans had the right of Free Will from the beginning. They simply chose to listen to your advice and go on their way. There's always been a choice, even if they somehow all lead to here. I even have Free Will. We all have it, there's just negative consequences when certain choices aren't smart."

"Why are you taking this so well?" he had to ask, knowing no one else would be this understanding and willing to argue semantics.

Aziraphael flushed and smiled softly. "I'd be skeptical if I didn't remember that only Archangel's can make Holy Water, and I remember quite well being the one to make the Holy Water I gave to you. I had no other way of secreting some away from Heaven."

Gabriel went back to his mindless sputtering and Crowley gaped unattractively. It had truly been ' _the holiest_ ' of Holy Water! Quite literally! "You can make Holy Water and you never said anything?"

"What was I supposed to say?!"

Point taken.

"I can put you both back together if you want," Adam offered, bringing all of their attention back to the fact that they were each half of a whole.

Something he'd been longing for the past six thousand years and yet… something like that required a discussion. True revelation. No barriers or lies between them. They'd have to come to that as a mutual agreement more than anything. And he wanted to be with Aziraphael... but maybe no longer in  _that_  way. It had been too long and if they were in one body they couldn't do all the things they normally did together.

"That would not be the best of ideas, kid. Not even the normal angels up there can look upon the true form of an Archangel without feeling some modicum of pain and discomfort. I shudder to think what would happen to mortals if they saw one. The bodies we use here aren't our real forms and Archangels have to get theirs reinforced in a sense. It'd be a bloody mess with all the eyes and the wings."

"But thank you for the offer," added Aziraphael with a bright smile and a flutter of his lashes.

"Though if you think you have the power to make an Archangel whole once more, you might just have the power to stop the world from ending!" Crowley said, wanting to get everyone back on track and not liking how exposed he was feeling. Laying his heart bare when Gabriel and Beelzebub were around was simply not it.

Beelzebub and Gabriel seemed to snap out of their funk, both glaring and disappearing, one above and one below. That didn't mean it was over though.

As the ground shook and shuddered and a disgusting power filled the air, Crowley realised that there was truly only one chance to save the world and it had to be through the boy who had been prophesied to end it. All he needed was a bit of inspiration. Just how?

"COME UP WITH SOMETHING!" Aziraphael demanded, taking up what used to be his own flaming sword and staring Crowley down. "Or I'll never talk to you again."

Noooooooooo! That was worse than anything he could ever do!

And so Crowley stopped time.

* * *

**A/N: Another is done!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^


	13. In Which God Says "GAY RIGHTS!"... Basically

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That night in the flat leads to some... revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -One more chapter to go!

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

"Did you say  _pining_?"

Of all the things Crowley had said that day, that was the one thing his angel had chosen to focus on hours later? When they were alone and he had nothing to distract the angel with?

Crowley stared at the glass of brandy in his hand, preferring to focus on it than his angel who was seated within touching distance on Crowley's fancy sofa. Aziraphael hadn't even taken a sip of his own drink yet, too busy staring at the demon in wonder. On some level, maybe inviting him back to Crowley's flat wasn't the best idea. New territory. In more ways than one.

Conversation had been an on and off thing since the bus stop in Tadfield. Crowley had been caught between swooning over Aziraphael sitting beside him on the bus versus all the other times where they'd taken separate seats, and worrying over what was going to happen to them now since Heaven and Hell weren't the kind to back down. Nutter's last prophecy was in his angel'l pocket and made no sense. Of course the poor spelling could be the problem. If it was spelled correctly then maybe they'd know what was going to happen.

He sighed. "Yes, angel, I said pining." Could have said so many other words, but pining really explained it best.

"As in… as in  _longing_?"

"Yearning! Aching! Yes, angel! I've thought of naught else but you for six thousand years."

"Oh, Crowley."

There was a hand on his forearm then, while another took up his glass and set aside so the angel could have his full attention, as if Crowley wouldn't ever give it to him freely. Aziraphael had that soft, fond look on his face. The one he got whenever Crowley did something he deemed particularly incredible. Crowley had gotten that look several times in the last week alone.

Reviving the dead dove. Clearing the paint off of Aziraphael's old coat. Not letting the humans kill each other with real guns. Taking him for cake because it was his weakness. Delivering Book Girl back home. So many instances for him to bask in and here it was again, when Crowley hadn't even done anything to warrant it.

"Is this why you've never been a very good demon, my dear?"

"Demons aren't good by definition, angel."

"Oh tosh, you know what I mean. You're as bad of a demon as I am an angel. We simply don't fit in with our own sides, and I think us each being only half of another being is the reason."

That would make sense. They both cared about children and Healing the sick. Both did not like hurting others with malicious intent. Despite being two separate people now, they still retained similar characteristics of what Raphael had been all those years ago. Things like that didn't just vanish after all.

"I simply can't believe God would split us apart as punishment," Aziraphael went on to say. "I would expect that kind of reaction from the angels but not the Almighty. It feels too… I can't really explain it. I don't like thinking about it, that's for certain."

Before Crowley could even get a word in on the topic, the flat went dark, all the lights shutting off. Of course it didn't stay dark as a glowing, bright light sprang into existence in the center of the room, casting a bluish/white glow onto everything. And the warmth it brought… Godly and familiar despite Crowley's last experience with it being from so long ago. Babel if he wasn't mistaken.

**"Some of my plans are not meant to be explained,"** the light of the Almighty said, voice soothing and calm. **"Others perhaps deserve a little exposition after everything that has happened."**

Really?

**"Yes, really,"** said God in response to his thoughts, sounding a bit amused. **"You were not the only Archangel split apart. Another was also made into two and sent about their own business. The memory of them was removed from everyone else, to protect them as they were then, and who they are now. There is a reason for everything I do even if no one understands immediately."**

Not the only… who? What other demon was there who was consorting with an angel that used to be their other half, and hiding it from both sides?

God chuckled.  **"While the Fall was painful, I allowed minor details to remain. A demon who was once half of an Archangel, retains their wings. None of the other demons have them if you haven't noticed."**

He hadn't. He didn't care enough about them to learn more than necessary. But shouldn't that fact have been obvious?

**"I also allowed the demon halves to keep their memories to give them the chance to choose to find their other half. A test if you will. If you were truly cruel and heartless and evil you wouldn't have cared about your other half and simply followed Lucifer's orders without question. And yet, proven before me, the demon halves of the Archangels went with determination to reconnect to their other halves regardless of what they thought I wanted, and do not blindly follow Lucifer's direction or agree with him.**

**"Crowley, you wanted everyone to have a choice and I obliged, but with that came the understanding that choices will have consequences. And everyone, even the angels, have made their choices. All demons and angels are capable of Good and Evil and everything in between. Most merely choose to cling to what they think their side wants most because not being a part of something larger can be terrifying and not having to choose at all is easier to handle than what would happen if one chooses wrong. Little do some know they are failing at being what they think they should be."**

Years had it been since God had spoken to Crowley directly. He didn't remember the Almighty ever being this inspirational before.

Still… he had to know.

"Was asking a simple question such as that  _really_  enough for such punishment?"

That had  _not_  been from Crowley! His head snapped to his angel, who was frowning at the light. Aziraphael who had literally just questioned God's actions and choices. The very thing that had gotten Crowley into trouble all those years ago.

But Aziraphael wasn't done it seemed. "No disrespect intended my Lord, but some of your angels don't feel like Good people to me. Not even decent people. And if Falling is the punishment for not being as they should and choosing wrong, I have to wonder why they haven't been Felled as of yet. It truly doesn't seem fair that some angels were Felled for asking questions while others are simply cruel and lazy when it comes to doing their jobs."

Crowley had never wanted his angel to Fall. It had been painful. Sure it hurt but the split had been the worst thing in his mind at the time. Still, that burning was not something Aziraphael should have to suffer through. Never! Aziraphael shouldn't ever have to hurt if it wasn't necessary!

God sighed. There was no thunder. No anger. No sudden disappearance of Aziraphael's wings and utter agony. **"Everything is meant to happen for a reason. You saw the Great Plan through as I had hoped. It was a test with hundreds of possible endings. You managed to find the only correct one. And in this lone ending, you have ensured the Ineffable Plan shall continue as I so desired. And that plan will involve a partnership unlike any you've ever seen, and war greater than Heaven or Hell could imagine. But if you plan accordingly, what you wish will come to pass.**

**"There is a reason I never alerted the Archangels to your companionship. As an Archangel you were not content to be in Heaven. Neither of you. It became monotonous and I was perfectly aware of those feelings. Hell wouldn't work for you either. Both are too mundane and unwelcoming to ones such as you. But Earth… was common ground and had a bright future that I was aware of. And you are better off apart than together no matter how painful the separation might have been. Angels and demons can love in the same ways mortals do. Most simply haven't caught on yet. But you two have for the most part. I didn't think it would take six thousand years to get to this point of course."**

Wait. "Are you saying…?"

**"That you are still One in the romantic sense and are in love with one another and have had my Blessing since The Beginning? Yes."**

God had known all along that they had been friends. That they weren't doing as Heaven and Hell thought an angel and a demon should. God had been perfectly aware of their Agreement no doubt. And hadn't said anything to anyone on the matter. Apparently it had been something the Almighty had expected even. Maybe even planned to happen!

And yet when he considered it and the mindset of those overbearing, religious nuts who proclaimed themselves servants of God's Word... "But isn't it a si-"

**"Love can _never_ be a sin,"** God insisted quite snappishly, shutting Crowley up immediately for fear of what the Almighty could do when in a strop.

**"Now if I were you, I would take that last prophecy in the literal sense. Imagine Heaven's reaction when an angel doesn't burn in Hellfire, and Hell's reaction to when a demon doesn't dissolve in Holy Water. I _need_ to see Gabriel shaking in terror as he tries to understand what's going on!"** The Almighty sounded amused.  **"Do me a minor favour and be as dramatic as possible when posing as each other. I need a good laugh and people have gotten over the platypus and Australia by now, plus Hannibal was canceled, so this is all I've got until 2225."**

And just as soon as God came, God went, leaving the two gaping as the lights in the flat came back on as if they'd never went out.

God had just given them permission to not only break Heaven and Hell's rules, but God wanted them to go overboard with it as well. And somehow managed to answer questions and  _not_  answers questions at the same bloody time! But he had time to think on that later because all Crowley could think of… "I  _knew_  the existence of the platypus was a great bloody joke!"

Aziraphael was focused on other things in seemed, since he took Crowley's face in his hands and laid the most adoring and filthy kiss on the demon. One unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. And they could do this because they had God's Blessing and anyone who didn't like it could fuck off.

"Mmm... to think I've been wanting to do that for years but felt guilty for it," said his angel, running his hand through Crowley's hair, smiling down at him with all the warmth of the sun. His Grace was practically vibrating between them and Crowley felt  _consumed_ , but in a good way. "I always wanted to touch your long hair and run my fingers through it. You look lovely when it's long."

In an instant, said hair lengthened a little past his shoulders again. If his angel wanted to grope him, he could do it until his heart was content. And Crowley was content to just sit there and let him, having also imagined this happening many a time over the last millennia alone and criticising himself for being so needy. But Aziraphael wanted it too so he didn't have to feel guilty anymore.

"And you can pull it half back again. You looked so dashing when you added your sunglasses to the ensemble, my dear. I would forget to blink."

He was so warm! He could feel Aziraphael's affection seeping into his skin wherever his angel touched him. He wanted to remove his clothes to just more. "I think- angel, I might have a praise kink."

"My dear, you've had it since The Beginning. It's adorable."

Shite!

"You're adorable, Crowley."

Definitely the bastard of the two halves of Raphael. A torturous, flirtatious dick who knew what he was doing and was doing it very well.

And here Crowley thought he had a strong constitution than this.

"My dear, shall I take you to bed?" asked Aziraphael from between his legs.

"Yesssssss!"

* * *

**A/N: Another is done!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^


	14. Not So Incomplete After All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the first day of the rest of their lives is great!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Thanks for reading this fic! ^-^ I got feels while writing it and being able to throw in all of my headcanons was fun!

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

"Swapping bodies… how exactly are we doing that?"

Aziraphael smirked. "We'd need to be making physical contact of course. That shouldn't be too difficult after last night."

Despite the flush working its way over his face - _he was a demon, he had no shame_  - Crowley's worries could not be so easily deterred. "Can we even successfully pretend to be each other?" Especially with so little time to prepare for it? What if something went wrong?

The angel offered his hand, palm up, and said, "Let us find out, my dear."

With a sigh, Crowley took his hand and shifted as the strange sensation overtook him. He could see the form of Aziraphael melting away, dark red sprouting among the near-white curls on his head. And his shoulders rose just the slightest as their height difference wasn't anything particularly worthy of note on the best of days.

Eventually, he was staring at his own form, clothes and all, and found himself looking like Aziraphael complete with ridiculously manicured nails and the centuries old coat that needed to get burned and promptly forgotten.

Aziraphael, in his body, beamed, a look most unnatural with Crowley's face. "It seems it's worked, my dear. You look just as expected!"

"Now we just have to act like each other." How the fuck would they pull that off though? Crowley had been himself for six thousand years and had never pretended to be anyone else except another servant of Hell when he was messing with Gabriel so Aziraphael could stay on Earth.

Without even hesitating, Aziraphael turned around and… he wasn't exaggerating when he specified this, sauntered away. There was an odd swing to his borrowed hips and a sway to his upper body that didn't allow him to remain properly upright. His feet weren't necessarily apart with each step and more like one directly in front of the other almost drunkenly.

And the thing was, it wasn't wrong. Crowley was very aware of his distinctive gait, he'd just never seen it personally. His thighs were very thin and made it look even more unnatural. All legs and no arse it seemed. Though they were nice legs and he applauded his choice of 'skinny jeans'. He looked good in them.

The angel in demon's skin turned, cocked a hip, and said in a tone mirroring Crowley's own perfectly, "Animals don't kill each with clever machines, angel, only humans do that." Perfectly mimicked even down to the accent. Despite both sounding English since the dawn of Earth's existence, they didn't sound the same. England had so many dialects and accents and of  _course_  they wouldn't be the same. And yet Aziraphael pulled it off perfectly. Without blinking.

Even the smirk and the cocking of the brow was spot on.

The act was broken when he waved his arms excitedly in a manner Crowley wouldn't be caught dead replicating, and said, "Now you try, my dear!"

Well if his angel could imitate him perfectly, Crowley couldn't be left in the dust. His pride wouldn't take it.

Drawing himself up and folding his hands primly in front of his borrowed stomach, he forced a cheerful smile and said, "I am an angel, you are a demon. We're hereditary enemies. Get thee behind me, foul fiend!" He then waved a hand in a graceful flourish, "After you!"

The pout on his own face looked out of place without his sunglasses to block his eyes. One thing about them that he resented, was how expressive they were. Sure he was annoyed over being unable to make them totally blend in like most everything else on the surface - he did have a smattering of scales running down his spine and his tongue would be forked without his permission sometimes - but it was how open they were that aggravated him the most. And yet that was also the reason he often took them off in the sanctuary of Aziraphael's shop. So the angel to see the truth for what it was.

Aziraphael-in-Crowley's-body wiggled a little, as he often did when excited. Crowley had no problem admitting that he thought it was adorable. Everything his other half did was adorable. And sometimes in a bastardly way. And yes, bastardly was a new word if it wasn't one already. He'd just miracled it as such.

"I cannot wait to see Gabriel's face when I don't burn in the fire," said Crowley, gleefully imagining the Archangel's reaction. "Not sure I'd be able to control myself if he shat himself in fear though."

The deadpan look the angel sent him using his own face made him snort. He couldn't help it! Naturally he was drawn to tricks and jokes!

And at least God gave them permission to go overboard with the act. They could do whatever they wanted and wasn't that a grand thought?

* * *

Swapping back was more tingly than the first swap. It kind of made him a bit light-headed too. Or that could just be their powers mixing together for that split second of frozen time.

Aziraphael leaned him, grin on his own face and said, "I asked for a rubber duck! And made the Archangel Michael miracle me a towel! Never heard her say 'oh, Lord' before!"

"I wish I could have seen it!" said Crowley, cackling at the images his mind dreamed up. It would have been the greatest thing besides Gabriel's horror. And Michael literally just miracled up a bloody towel for the not-burning demon in the tub of Holy Water? Oh Michael of cool countenance and indomitable will? Aziraphael managed to crack their sibling's manner that badly?

"I flicked and splashed Holy Water everywhere. Terrified the lot of them down there!"

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. And living up to that inner bastard to well! He'd always known that Aziraphael had a hidden, devious side he didn't like to let out often.

"Beelzebub had never looked more unnerved! Said you'd gone native and might have never been one of them to begin with!"

It was things like this that made him thrilled to care so much about this angel. It was those little things that went against basic angelic nature. The Unabashed gluttony. The bastardly actions. The emotional connections formed far too easily and so often to things varying from people to inanimate objects, that no other angel seemed capable of the same. It was all just so Aziraphael and it was great.

"Might I tempt you to a spot of lunch, angel?"

Aziraphael smiled and wiggled a bit. "Temptation accomplished, my dear."

And if on their way to the Ritz - where Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy was playing in the back of Crowley's head on the way over - Aziraphael decided to link hands with him, no one said a bloody thing about it.

Crowley found himself, as he often found himself when it came to his angel, watching enraptured as he enjoyed his food and talked his ear off about anything and everything. It was moments like this between them, so frequent that he couldn't even count them, that made him think that perhaps they hadn't been so incomplete after all.

* * *

**A/N: It is finished!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^

**Author's Note:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^


End file.
